Reindeer Games

Ehren Kruger

Description

Movie Release Date : February 2000

Sujets

• Crime
• Thriller
• ACTION
• Dráma

Informations

• Publié par: script-cinema
• Publié le: 01 janvier 2000
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• Licence : En savoir +
  Paternité, pas d'utilisation commerciale, partage des conditions initiales à l'identique
• Langue: English

Extrait

"REINDEER GAMES"

Screenplay by

Ehren Kruger

FADE IN:

FIGURE IN A SANTA CLAUS SUIT

lies face-down in a nighttime expanse of snow. One of the body's red-sleeved arms is twisted at a sickening angle. The white snow beneath the figure is spreading with red.

REVEAL EXT. SNOWY ROAD - NIGHT

The figure in the suit lies motionless. Snowflakes drift.

INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

Dark, rustic wood, an office with broken windows and whistling winter beyond. A second BODY in a Santa Claus suit lies dead in the doorway.

It's a man with a large build. The suit is riddled with holes. His face is missing.

EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT

More snow falling. A handful of cars in the lot. A third BODY in the same red-and-white outfit lies atop the hood of an old Pontiac. His head is not visible, having smashed through the windshield. His suit is charred and blackened.

A halo of broken glass outlines him. His black boots hang off the front bumper. The parking lot is silent.

INT. ROOM - NIGHT

A floor scattered with shiny silver quarters. Reflections of neon. There's a fourth SANTA here, face-down in a red pool. The suit is far too big for him. Not that it matters now.

EXT. SNOW-FILLED RAVINE - NIGHT

where the fifth and final Santa lies at the edge of a ravine, which plummets a hundred feet down. The man rests precariously atop the slope, upside-down, eyes closed.

His burned suit is smoldering. He has a sly but tired face, late-20's, sandy hair, cold and scarred. This is RUDY DUNCAN.

He opens his eyes.

RUDY (V.O.)

I never was much for the holidays.

CUT TO BLACK:

THE SOUND OF A WINTER WIND

rises, as a TITLE appears: "SEVEN DAYS BEFORE..."

And then, to complete the sentence: "...XMAS."

FADE IN:

EXT. IRON MOUNTAIN STATE PRISON - DAY

Snow drifts down onto the stone walls and wire fences of the Iron Mountain, Michigan S.I.C. Winter's been here awhile.

INT. PRISON CELL - DAY

Rudy Duncan lies in his top bunk, staring at his ceiling -- where a handful of paper-cut snowflakes have been pasted.

The sounds of YELLING INMATES and GATES slamming shut echo through the fortress. Rudy watches a spider scurry across the paper snow. It's his excitement for the day.

He turns to the wall, where there's a photo of his teenage self with some co-workers at an auto body shop. And a family photo, cheery Midwesterners, with Rudy a scowling Artful Dodger.

A WALL CALENDAR

Shows the dates have been crossed off up to December 18th.

December 22nd is circled again and again.

Rudy muses at the calendar, then hops out of his bunk. Drops to the floor, crosses to a desk, finds a chewed-on pen. Turning back to the beds we reveal --

THE LOWER BUNK

where Rudy's cellmate, NICK MASON (32), rugged, mustached and well-built, sleeps soundly. In contrast, his bed-wall is a COLLAGE OF PHOTOGRAPHS, twenty, maybe thirty of them. Almost a mural.

All of them photos of A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG GIRL, mid-twenties, smiling out from beaches, parties and snowy scenes. Gorgeous brown hair, heartbreaking smile. Effortlessly sexy.

RUDY

stares at the pictures for a moment, wistful. Nick snores, turns over. Rudy climbs atop his bunk again, with the pen this time. And crosses December 18th off the calendar.

CUT TO:

EXT. PRISON YARD - DAY

The two of them, Nick and Rudy, shivering by the fence. Nick absently whistles some "Silver Bells," then digs for a smoke.

NICK

What's the first thing, man? What's the first thing you're gonna do?

RUDY

Haven't thought about it.

NICK

Hell you haven't.

RUDY

Get to thinking about it, it won't happen.

NICK

We walk outta here, we hit that road, what's the first thing you're gonna do.

RUDY

Ain't there yet.

NICK

Three days, man.

RUDY

Not yet.

NICK

Fuckin' Christmas, man. Fuckin, Christmas on the outs.

Dozens of uniformed INMATES wander the yard, stamping feet, hands tucked away, breath frosting. Nick tries to light his cig, but the wind plays havoc. Nick curses, tosses it.

RUDY

Hot chocolate.

NICK

What?

RUDY

Get a hot mug of chocolate. (nods) First thing I'm gonna do.

NICK

(smiles)

And a slice of pecan pie, right?

RUDY

And some pecan pie.

Nick laughs, stares through the fence at the gates of the prison's entrance road. Longingly.

NICK

She's gonna be out there, man. Right there. Right there waiting.

RUDY

Yeah.

NICK

Gonna walk out of this shitstorm and right into her arms.

RUDY

Yeah.

NICK

Got us a motel out Highway 5, bringing her own damn sheets, you read that part? Silk damn sheets. Lock ourselves in the whole week, drinking wine, taking baths, man, see if they got those room service steaks... anything I want to do. Remember when she wrote that? Anything I want...

RUDY

Yeah. Fuckin' Christmas.

Nick grins. They stand there, shivering. It's freezing, but the time they get outside is too precious to give up.

RUDY

All those pictures she's sent... y'know... you sure they're all of her, Nick? You hear sometimes they don't send their real pictures. Could be her cousin or something.

Nick studies him.

NICK

Why you gotta say a thing like that.

RUDY

I'm just saying.

NICK

Why you gotta. We were gonna give you a ride someplace, man. Now I just don't know.

RUDY

I'm just talking.

NICK

Fuck your hot chocolate, Rudy.

They trail off in silence. Nick looks out at the prison road again. A snowy wasteland.

NICK

I'm gonna marry this girl.

INT. PRISON CELL - DAY

Rudy lies in his bunk, staring at the same paper snowflakes.

NICK (O.S.)

Hey, hey, listen here. "I've made my list and I've checked it twice, and as long as you're naughty, it's gonna be nice. These cold winter weeks have been killing me, Nick, as I lie here alone. It's not enough to have your warmth in my heart anymore; I need your warmth next to me. Work at Penney's has been busy because it's Christmas and that's when we do almost half of our business for the whole year -- ", okay, whatever, whatever -- (skipping on) " -- my manager's still mad at me for asking for the whole week off," whatever, whatever -- (smiles) Here we go. "And all that gets me through the day is to close my eyes and imagine holding you, and kissing you, and touching you, and tasting you everywhere because I know at that moment, I'll feel I've found the reason for my whole entire life."

Rudy still stares at the stone ceiling.

RUDY

For twenty-five, she sounds pretty mature.

NICK

Yeah. You grow up in Detroit, you get matured real quick.

Nick's doing pushups on the floor below, smoking a cig, reading sheets of pink stationery. With a new photo: of the same GIRL, in a bikini by a lake. Vamping a childish pose.

NICK

Sure as hell don't make me miss Millie Bobek. Guess I owe Millie, though. If I hadn't been rollin, her, I woulda never ended up here. And I woulda never met Ashley. (studies photo) That's the world for ya.

Nick climbs off the floor, paces back to the bunks, marvelling at the latest letter.

RUDY

What if she sees you, man, sees what you look like... and it's not there. You just don't do it for her.

NICK

Me and her got a connection. (hands page to him) Read this part. Read the part about stuffing her stocking.

Nick drops the page on his stomach. Rudy sighs, picks it up, brings it to his nose.

RUDY

She's using a new perfume.

NICK

No, I think that's just oranges. She writes here she's eating oranges.

RUDY

Oh.

NICK

Shoulda written to that magazine, Rudy. I'm gonna walk outta here, walk right into a relationship. Not some one-nighter, man... a relationship. You? You're gonna walk outta here with bus fare. Searching for the drunkest skirt in the room.

RUDY

Mornin', gorgeous. More egg nog?

NICK

Shoulda written, Rudy...

Nick drops back to his bunk, pasting the new lakeside photo among his collage of pictures. Admiring his pen pal:

NICK

Shoulda got yourself a girl.

Above, Rudy peruses the page Nick gave him. Some lipstick marks pressed to the paper. He passes it back, closes his eyes.

RUDY

All I want... is to make it to Sidnaw, and sit down for Christmas dinner. Watch some ball with my old man, sleep in my old bed, and have leftovers for bout six months.

NICK

Thought you hated Sidnaw.

RUDY

Just taste that Christmas turkey.

NICK

Thought you hate your old man.

RUDY

Five years, Nicky. Five years. (shrugs) I just want to go home.

There's the echo of CRASHING metal gates. Prisoners YELLING. Nick smiles, still staring at his girl.

NICK

Well, man. Me and Ashley. We'll be thinking about you.

INT. MAIN PRISON FLOOR - DAY

GUARDS monitor PRISONERS as they file out of their cells for the afternoon meal. Rudy and Nick are motioned out by a MEAN GUARD, his bitter world etched in his face. They join the line.

RUDY

Shit. Alamo's back.

Across Broadway, a parallel line is forming. A tall, tattooed Native American, THE ALAMO, steps out of his cell. His hands are the size of a man's skull.

NICK

Don't look like he missed the sunlight.

RUDY

Pinscher told me Alamo thinks I'm the one ratted on him beating up Cree. Since I was there, I saw it, he thinks I got him sent to solitary.

NICK

Aw, Rudy.

At that moment, Alamo glances over. Finds Rudy's eyes. Rudy swiftly looks away --

RUDY

Count me outta mealtime --

He slaps Nick an the back, heads back for their cell --

MEAN GUARD

GET BACK IN LINE!

RUDY

I'm not hungry, I'm gonna --

MEAN GUARD

SHOULDA STAYED IN YOUR HOLE! GET BACK IN FUCKING LINE!

The mean guard pulls his blackjack. Another guard's ready behind him. They want Rudy to give them trouble.

Rudy stops. Slides back into the line of prisoners. Looks across Broadway. The Alamo's walked on up ahead. Rudy swallows, heads toward the mess hall.

INT. MESS HALL - DAY

A GLOOPY SPOON of CHUNKY RED AND GREEN JELLO gets splooshed on Rudy's plate. Same with Nick. It's the cafeteria line.

NICK

What the fuck is this?

UGLY STAFFER

Holiday jello.

NICK

What's this shit in it?

UGLY STAFFER

Swallow and see.

The ugly staffer grins from under his plastic hairnet. Nick looks to Rudy, then turns back to the help:

NICK

Just so you know, this man and I are outta here in two days. So while we're inhaling London broil and lobster bisque, you're gonna still be standing here smelling up the mystery creamfuck. (nods) Who's in prison now?

The ugly staffer curls his lip. Nick smiles. Rudy moves on, taking his tray off the rail and turning --

-- right into the chest of The Alamo. He looks up -- into the most scarred and vengeful face a man could ever dread to see. The Alamo's a lifer. Many times over.

THE ALAMO

When you don't expect it.

RUDY

It wasn't me, Alamo --

THE ALAMO

That's when.

The Alamo strides into the cafeteria line. Rudy finally takes a breath, as if he's dodged death. Nick's at his shoulder. They share a grave and worried look. Trying to help:

NICK

Two days.

INT. MESS HALL - TABLES - DAY

Rudy and Nick sit at a cafeteria table. Beside Rudy is a frail, nervous, fiftyish inmate, ZOOK. Zook sits alone, talks to no one, always has the shakes.

NICK

So maybe after our week beneath the sheets, we'll head down to Motor City for New Year's. She says her roommate's skipping town for a few days, have the place to ourselves. Remember how her brother's a truck driver down there? I'm thinking he might be able to help get me some work.

RUDY

What, working security?

NICK

No, I'm through with that shit. Ashley's right. Gotta start doing something I got a stake in. Get a business going.

RUDY

I don't know, I've seen the business world.

NICK

Hotwiring cars, Rudy, does not qualify as a small business. Chop shop consultant; doesn't work on a resume.

Rudy shrugs. He checks across the room, on the whereabouts of The Alamo. The big Indian has his back turned.

NICK

Ashley's talking about maybe we can start something up together...

Next to Rudy, Zook has stopped eating. He is still as stone, staring at his tray.

NICK

Whatsa matter, Zook?

They both watch Zook put down his utensils and reach into his red-and-green jello with his bare hand.

RUDY

The hell you doing, Zookerman?

Gloppy gelatin drips from his hand, as the frail man lifts a large black cockroach out. Zook's shaking.

NICK

Just a roach, Zook.

RUDY

Good for you. Protein.

ZOOK

Monsters in the gelatin...

NICK

It's a roach, guy --

ZOOK

There are monsters... (voice rising) ...in the gelatin...

NICK

Oh, man --

Zook stands up, holding jello aloft:

ZOOK

THERE ARE MONSTERS IN THE GELATIN!

NICK

(shakes his head)

Fuckin, Zookerman --

ZOOK

THERE ARE MONSTERS! IN THE GELATIN! THERE ARE MONSTERS! IN THE GELATIN!

A GRUMBLING MURMUR sweeps through the cafeteria as inmates sift through their jello, searching for --

DISTANT INMATE

Sonofabitch!

He pulls something bug-like out of his dessert, holds it aloft, and then HURLS it at the cafeteria line. A STAFFER ducks away. The inmates LAUGH and suddenly they're all on their feet --

ZOOK

THERE ARE MONSTERS! IN THE GELATIN!

-- grabbing handfuls of jello and throwing it at the cafeteria line. Inmates get errantly SPLASHED, and respond by wheeling on their fellow inmates -- red and green globs flying to and fro!

GUARDS

SIT DOWN! SIT THE FUCK BACK DOWN!

As GUARDS immediately rush in to restore order --